We wake up to the light smell of smoke each morning. The sky is hazy. And the first not-quite-awake thought I have is, “It’s back to school season.”

Back to school time is forest fire time around here. Sometimes, we connect certain smells with the season; I love noticing that feel. Cinnamon, roasting apples, falling leaves, sharpened pencils… and forest fires. We even spotted some yellowing trees on the pass.

(In mountain talk, the pass refers to the point where a road is at its peak on the top of a mountain before you begin to wind your way back down. Or it refers to the entire up and down journey.)

Hello to Rocky Mountain life.

Hello to the time of year my journal business, Gadanke, began.

And hello to all of your questions on how Gadanke began. Here’s the first one (from this post):

I’D LOVE TO HEAR MORE ABOUT HOW YOU CAME UP WITH THE CONCEPT FOR GADANKE.

** childhood **

As a girl, I was always labeled shy or reserved, when really, as my parents knew so well, I was actually a very deep listener.  I wanted to hear people’s stories; I wanted them to celebrate the ordinary moments of an ordinary life.

In middle school, I volunteered to dust my grandma’s curio cabinets after school… just because I knew she’d tell me stories of her stuff. Dorky. I know.

But it worked! She chatted for hours and hours.

Somehow, in this desire to hear more and more story, I developed a knack for helping people tell their stories.

It’s kind of funny to think back at club banquets and ceremonies when my classmates would start off a speech, “Well, I never really knew Katie. She didn’t talk much…”

I would get so frustrated and want to shout out, “Hey! Don’t you remember that 4 hour bus ride? We talked about da-da-da…”

Okay. So now I get it. I was asking questions, prompting on stories, and they were talking. And we were both loving it. There’s nothing cooler than watching a person get into a story.

Story catcher. That was me.

(Ever see a school cafeteria full of 17-year-olds dressed in suits? I’m the girl on the left.)

At the same time, I was on all of those bus rides and attending those banquets because I was a serious club participant. My favorite was speech and debate. I was nerdy; I was addicted to telling others’ stories. I told first person stories of a teacher who befriended an abandoned child. I told the story of being an alcholic teen. Sometimes my judges cried.

I saw the impact of story.

I just didn’t notice the talent I had for it.

** college **

I was a business major with serious plans for law school. Just for fun, I took a creative writing class. The next thing you know, I was transferring colleges to focus on personal essay writing and children’s poetry.

What on earth could I do with an English degree from a women’s college in Virginia and a business degree from my state school, I thought.

** my grandma’s 90th birthday **

By now, you probably know about this incredible day.

NPR’s StoryCorp had driven their sleek little recording bus into town.  “Come tell your stories!” they urged everyone in town.  So my grandma and I signed up.

I created a list of prompts and questions to ask her.  We practiced over two bowls of vanilla ice cream with extra chocolate sauce.  Then we stepped into the recording bus.

I started asking the questions on my list.  “Where did you and grandpa meet?”  “What was it like losing him to Alzheimer’s?”

She paused.  Her soft blue eyes just gazed into my own blue eyes.  And then she spoke.

“I don’t remember.”

Later she tried writing her story.  You can imagine how much she struggled.  Too much time had gone by.

And now, those stories are gone forever.

My dad turned to me and said, “Alright Katie, I really need you to write about what life is like for you today.”

I became serious about my journal making and story keeping THAT DAY. It was 2007. Martin and I had just quit our corporate jobs. We had dreams of doing something so different, we just weren’t entirely sure what it could be yet.

** 2009 **

It was August. It was smokey like today, but not quite so bad. I should have been studying for my flight exam. I should have been packing up the tire house because we were moving back to Germany.

But I was writing a prompt book for my future journaling. I was right here at this same desk.

I kept going back to my book of prompts every day (when Martin wasn’t looking!). I was developing my prompts and strengthening the bits I knew I needed for good story keeping.

Then it hit me:

It was time for me to stop merely listening to people’s stories.  It was time to help people start writing – before it was too late.

Oh my gosh! The evening newspaper just arrived. I might just faint right back there in all that aloe that runs along the windows.

THANK YOU all for sharing this journey with me. Thank you for believing in me. For believing in yourselves and your stories.

And to the absolutely awesome and talented reporter (who found me on Twitter)… THANK YOU.

Sometimes I feel like a radical blogger. (And I’m not even talking about the I-live-in-a-house-made-of-tires part of this blog. Or the I-move-all-the-time-but-I’m-not-military part of my life.)  I’m talking about blogging itself.

Over the last six months, I’ve been eliminating some of the “most important” pieces of blogging information that everyone says you HAVE TO DO, and I couldn’t be happier. Making This Home hasn’t crumbled. We’re still here together, and I’m happier… which hopefully means I can make this space better for you, too.

(a self portrait at a favorite spot for hearing tall tales as a kid)

Here are my thoughts on what works for me as a happier blogger:

1.  DISABLE ANY RSS AND SUBSCRIBER COUNTING SYSTEMS.

How many of you blog and constantly check your statistics? I bet a lot of you do it daily or insanely often. How many subscribers do you have?

Oh no! One less than yesterday? What did you do wrong?

Five more than yesterday?  Okay… go study whatever it is you just did and repeat, repeat, repeat until you’re blue in the face. Huh.

I hated it. I found myself distracted by the numbers; I couldn’t focus on the story. So I deleted all counting systems.  Even if I had the urge to just go peek at my subscriber counts, I can’t.

When a reporter asked me how many readers I have the other day, I told her the truth.  I didn’t know, and it was the best emotional decision I could have done for myself.

2. KNOW THAT THE WORLD WON’T END IF YOU DON’T BLOG EACH TIME YOU THINK YOU SHOULD.

There’s this feeling that a lot of new bloggers get:  if you do not blog every day, you will fail.

That’s simply not true.  Our world will continue without that blog post.  You will, too. And it’s all totally okay.

When I first started blogging, I would post six or seven times a week. Just look at my archives, and you’ll see. Post… post… post…  I was on a roll.  It was so easy to write to you every day in Germany.

Now I’m running a full-time journal shop and building a house in an airplane hangar. I just can’t blog at the same level. There’s not enough time.

There’s a natural flow with how much we can write. It has to do with how much we have going on in our lives and how inspired we are to write. You shouldn’t fight it.  Just celebrate it for what it is.

3. STOP FOLLOWING BLOGS THAT MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

No way do I think that many bloggers intend to make other people feel like they aren’t as good. It just happens sometimes.  That blogger has a bigger following. That blogger is funnier. Her photos are better. Her business makes more money.  You know, whatever it is about that blog that is unintentionally making you feel intimidated, stop reading.

You can always go back and subscribe or catch up to everything when you’re ready.

4. EMBRACE YOURSELF AND YOUR BLOG JUST HOW YOU ARE.

I’ve talked about keeping a focus when you blog… and how I overcame comments about how unfocused Making This Home was.

All I’m doing is blogging about Making THIS Home, and well, home keeps changing in pretty drastic directions around here.  Berlin, Germany… tire house in the middle of nowhere USA… Denver suburbs… back and forth, back and forth… future home in an old airplane hangar.

The truth is, your blog should be a piece of you. The second it isn’t, the passion behind your words trickles away. Readers feel it. You feel it.

5. BLOG FOR YOU.

As an expat, I’ve seen a lot of blogs come and go. Sometimes people just decide that blogging isn’t how they want to spend their time. Others get frustrated because they don’t have enough followers (see #1) or aren’t making enough money.

If your new blog is smothered in ads, I won’t read it. It makes me feel like you aren’t getting into blogging because you enjoy it and want me to enjoy reading it; you’re blogging because you want to cash in on having me there.

Don’t start blogging for money. We can tell.

Don’t start to appease someone else.

Don’t get mad at people you know because they aren’t reading your blog. (My mom never reads my blog when we’re in Germany; she says it’s just too hard to be reminded of how far away Martin and I are. I get that.)

Blog first and foremost for you. Blog to fill that deep desire in  your heart.

Writing the secrets in my heart for you was so fun! This is how I still get butterflies each time I hit “publish”.

If you want to dive into the creative whispers of your heart with your blog or other creative movement, check out {Become} ~ Gadanke’s creative journey diary.

Any other tips or bits of wisdom?  And if you have a blog… would you like to share it with us in the comments?

My jumbo project this week? Grant writing.

As it turns out, writing grant applications (for the geothermal heating system at the hangar) is not nearly so fun as journal prompt writing. Drats.

So I started thinking, “Boy, what could make all of these conference calls and business note taking moments more fun?”

What could make all of our day-to-day note keeping more fun?

Okay. I confess. This wasn’t a last minute idea. The truth is I’ve been hauling one of these awesome books back and forth between the US and Germany a million times over the years. The bright, friendly color of my notebook has – so far – twinkled from the seat pocket in front of me on commercial flights. “HEY! Don’t forget to grab me as you disembark the aircraft, Missy!”

Whew. We all need that little shout sometimes. (My notebook’s personality is a tad formal, a tad sassy, and filled with more crossed off, jet lagged words and ideas than frequent flier miles.)

I thought you might like that little burst of sassy fun, too…

Introducing : {For the Record} ~ Fabric Covered Notebooks

I hope you like them! Marin is pretty fond of the Monkey Business notebook.

As for Gadanke stats you love:

• notebooks made with recycled papers (exact % unknown)
• fabrics from a local shop owned and operated by a super sweet mother with handmade biz dreams
• covers lined with soft and fuzzy fabric for an extra oomph

Each blank book measures 7.5 x 10 inches (19 x 25 cm). And I love using them! I hope you do, too.

I don’t know what the bigger question is now. Which {For the Record} notebook would you pick? OR What would you write in it?

Last weekend, Martin and I celebrated our anniversary. Just as the night was ending, I handed him this book:

Every month, I’ve been writing a page of the {Love Letter} from Gadanke. I’d doodle, add stickers, and paint. Then I’d stamp the date and paste in a photo.

It was so easy. And so fun.

The poem in the book prompted me. Sometimes I’d wrap up the whole month on the page. Sometimes I wrote about a specific day. There were no rules except for that photo.

I shared my process of creating a September page, October page, March page, and the personalized cover page. Then I even had Martin add peeks into his future gift on the Gadanke Peek in Journals page. (He posts all that stuff over there for me.)

After that, I quit talking about this journal project. I wanted Martin to kind of forget about it. I wanted the pages to be a surprise, not something he’d (1) already read and (2) edited online!

I had sooo much fun making this project.

When we were traveling in Germany in May, I didn’t bring this journal along. I emailed Martin a little note. Then when we were back at the tire house, I wrote those words into this book.

There have been so many of these {Love Letters} going out to customers around the world. To an unborn daughter. To a husband fighting in Iraq. To spouses and children. To moms. To dads. And yesterday… to a groom on his wedding day.

“Thank you for doing this,” Martin has told me at least a dozen times this week. He’s even got a special spot on his desk for his new book. (I’d better hurry and put it back before he notices I grabbed it for a few photos!)

I think that’s the coolest thing about the {Love Letter}. It’s such a great symbol of love – for the people who write it and the people who receive it. And I can’t wait to make another.

Happy weekend everybody! And Martin? Thanks for being my guy.

Today, we have a great treat. Sarah from Sarah with an “h” is here. She’s talking about how she made the switch from always saying NO WAY to everything to saying YES, YOU BET! WHY NOT?!

Before we dive into any of the things we’ve got lined up about being our authentic selves and how I grew my handmade journal business, we have to start saying YES to ourselves.

Spend some time thinking about what Sarah is saying. I think you’ll really love it…

I’m Sarah.

I used to be a “No” girl.

No to fun.  No to getting together with friends.  No to a challenging new hobby.  No to trying new foods.  No to my dreams of being a writer.  No to upsetting my routine.

Just no.

You see, saying no was easy. No meant I did not have to stray out of my comfort zone.  No allowed me to keep my distance from others.  No let me hide.  No prevented me from making mistakes, not being perfect, failing.

But then saying no became my demon.  No made me feel bad about myself.  Unworthy.  I hid behind No and fretted about what other people might think of me.  I used No as a shield.

And here’s the thing about the No.  No is isolating.  No doesn’t let me expand who I am.  No prevents me from accomplishing goals and relishing success.  No is a dead end.

Saying no chained me up.  No strangled that extrovert girl I knew was hiding just underneath the surface.  Saying no to myself squashed my potential and thwarted my chances at success.

a page of my {Become} journal from Gadanke

Finally I had enough of No.  I saw people everywhere saying Yes.  I can’t say that I just woke up one day and decided to stop being a No person.  I think it was an evolution.  And I realized No was just a cover for what was really going on.

See, if I said “Yes” then I would be open.  I would be vulnerable.  I would stick out.  I would be myself.  No gave me armor but Yes left me naked.

And what if people didn’t like me?  What if I didn’t like myself?  What if saying Yes left me too exposed?

But so far No got me nowhere.  So I figured Yes was worth a shot.

So I took a chance and started saying Yes.  Yes, I will take up cycling.  Yes, I will email that local blogger and ask her to meet me for lunch.  Yes, I will lead my Mom’s group.  Yes, I will teach myself HTML.  Yes, I will get my picture taken.  Yes, I will reach out to a potential new friend.  Yes, I will participate in the Week in the Life.  Yes and yes and yes and yes.

And Yes lead to more Yes and more Yes and more Yes.  Suddenly, lots of good things started rolling my way. And I did not need my No shield.  Because I was already all out there, saying Yes and being me.

It’s a little scary, this saying Yes business, because it forces me to move outside of myself and what I know.  Saying Yes requires courage to be me unapologetically.  And accept that, well, either people like me for who I am – or not – but either way, I am my authentic self.

a page of my {Become} journal from Gadanke

Sometimes, when I feel myself slipping back into saying No, here are a couple things I keep in mind:

1. The hardest part is deciding to say yes: For me, the most challenging aspect of moving out of my comfort zone is deciding to do it in the first place.  After I work up the courage to say yes, then I make a plan and do it.  Surprisingly, the rest is easy.

2. Think, what’s the worst that could happen?: So, you said yes to trying a new hobby.  And it did not work out quite as you planned.  So what?  Try again!  Or decide it’s not for you.  And that is quite alright.  Either way, you win because you said yes to something new and gave it a whirl.  So that is success.

3. Do it for you: When I say yes, I am making an investment in myself.  I am doing something to my betterment, which is always good.  As a wife, mother, daughter, sister, grand daughter, daughter-in-law, and friend, I do a lot for others.  Which I love to do.  But sometimes I need to say yes to myself and do something for me so I am able to give back to the people I love.

Now I am a Yes girl.  And I love being a Yes girl. Even when I say Yes and things don’t turn out as well as I hoped, I am glad I put myself out there.  Because saying Yes reminds me I am worthy, I am strong, I am courageous.

Yes, to me.